


Colours

by HiMiTSu



Series: Changing Habits [19]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-06
Updated: 2011-11-06
Packaged: 2017-10-25 18:34:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/273450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiMiTSu/pseuds/HiMiTSu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft Holmes never knew that appearance of DI Lestrade in his life would bring so many changes. The eighteenth change made Mycroft's world explode with colours...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Colours

The silvery surface of the rearview mirror blinded Mycroft for a moment as the streaming sunlight reflected from it. His eyes fluttered closed until they adjusted and he could see his reflection without cringing. Eyes, a deep blue with flecks of steely grey stared back at him and Mycroft wondered when his eyes became so expressive. The car was empty, safe for him; the driver has left at the demand of his boss. Through the front window the green of the trees was visible, fresh and bright as the summer itself. As June came the very air seemed to change, shift and bend, bringing the vivacity to the atmosphere. The water of every fountain in London seemed to sparkle in the light of the sun and Mycroft couldn't reject himself the pleasure of walking around the city with Gregory. That's exactly what he was planning do with his free day.

Mycroft looked out of the window, tinted glass lowered to let the soft wind in, waiting for the familiar figure to emerge from the building of the New Scotland Yard.

His gaze caught sight of silver grey. He loved Gregory's early greying hair, it made the man unique. The saturated blue of his shirt was an unexpected touch because Mycroft was used to seeing him wearing white shirts, mostly shamelessly stolen from Mycroft's wardrobe. The colour was deep and beautiful, bringing thoughts of a summer sky without a single cloud.

Mycroft moved on the backseat of the car, sliding over the cool leather noiselessly, so he was situated closer to the door. The next moment it was opened from the outside, a hand extended palm up and ready for Mycroft to take and be dragged out of the stiff air of his car. He took it, of course, and was immediately pulled outside, waiting to see the face of his lover but instead his gaze first fell on a flower held up to his face. Bright red with sparks of pink at the edges of long slim petals – a gerbera. Not caring to analyze the meaning of the flower, Mycroft took it, green stem held between two fingers with care, and lifted his head to finally meet the eyes of Gregory Lestrade. Warm and captivating hazel was the center of his world for mere moments until he remembered how to think properly and greeted the other man.

Mycroft didn't pay attention to his surroundings as they walked, for minutes or maybe hours, but that didn't matter because it was a lovely summer day and Gregory was right beside him, looking so casual but still gorgeous in that blue shirt; the warm brown of his eyes never left Mycroft's gaze for longer than a minute. He was feeling lazy and strangely happy, letting Gregory lead him wherever he wanted, trusting the man completely.

A lot of green registered in his peripheral vision and Mycroft looked away, realizing that they had ended up in the park, maybe unintentionally seeing how Gregory's eyes gleamed with surprised amusement. But that was even better because now instead of the dull greys and blacks of the city streets there was green everywhere, emerald and lime and bottle green, dark in the shadows and nearly transparent to the light of the sun. Sun, a bright and yellow ball, with small fluffy white clouds unable to conceal its glory no matter how hard they tried.

And then they stepped on a small bridge with its sandy coloured banisters and the dark blue water underneath. Almost black, not the boring black but deep with patches of reflected light. And then their reflections in the water. A warm possessive hand slung across his waist, gentle finger sliding under his jacket to glide over his hip.

Mycroft, unable to stop watching how the reflection of Lestrade leaned closer to the reflection of Mycroft Holmes to press a fleeting kiss to his temple. He looked up, one hand reaching for Lestrade's free hand, squeezing it lightly, while his gaze took in a beautiful picture before him. How strange, he thought, all that is needed is a presence of one man to make my world explode with colours.


End file.
